


Escape

by DeviantDarkBelle



Series: Kylux Summer Fest 2019 [6]
Category: Ex Machina (2015), Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boys Kissing, Dreams and Nightmares, Duck Tape Bar & Grill (Logan Lucky), Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylux - Freeform, Kylux Summer Fest 2019, M/M, Mental Anguish, kylux adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 13:22:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20097892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviantDarkBelle/pseuds/DeviantDarkBelle
Summary: For Kylux Summerfest Week Five: Road TripEngine/Bar/LostMonths ago I had fallen in the pit that is Caleb and Clyde.Here is an alternate universe meeting.





	Escape

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please excuse my errors in punctuation and grammar, as well as past/present tense shifts.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Caleb managed to get out, managed to escape the compound; managed to escape and _cheat _certain death. He was frantic, panicked, thought for a time that he was actually unconscious and was moments away from said death. How did he escape? He couldn't remember. How could he not remember? None of it made any sense.

Caleb ran. He ran until his legs failed him. Ran until his lungs gave out. Ran until his feet swelled and burned. Ran until he fell face first.

How long had he been out? He ached all over; his hands from banging on the thick sturdy doors and glass, his lungs from screaming and running, his legs and feet from running until he could no longer.

How did he get out?

Where the hell was he?

Had he been taken? Had someone or something picked him up somehow and transported him to this place? This was nothing like Nathan's land, he couldn't have made it all this way, all on his own. Nothing made sense.

Caleb brought his hand to his head and quickly pulled it back once he made contact. Hot. He was so hot and his head hurt. He looked at his hand and flinched again. Blood. Head trauma. It then made so much more sense.

He slowly got to his feet and walked much slower than he had previously. He had no phone, no wallet. How would he get home? How would he get back to civilization?

Caleb continued to walk, hoping a car or someone would pass him. He hadn't seen another face since Nathan's. He shuddered at that thought. He never wanted to think of Nathan's again. There was so much he wanted to forget.

Eventually, he stumbled forward as the ground shifted underneath his feet - from grass, to pavement - to gravel, then back to pavement. It had become dark, Caleb had been walking blindly, though something within him led the way. Almost as though he moved on instinct alone.

He had to of been dreaming, hallucinating, or more likely, he had died, his body still in the compound. Ahead of him, soft lights could be seen, and as Caleb approached he heard the telltale sounds of a town, of people. As he moved closer he could make out a bar. The Duck Tape.

Stars, he wanted a drink so badly, but he had no cash, no cards and he looked insane, he was sure. Perhaps he could use the phone inside, he had to call the company. Had to call the authorities.

Wait! Maybe they'd think he killed them all. Killed Nathan. No. No!

He couldn't think that way, at least not yet and not now. Calling and reporting were in his best interests.

He slowly made his way across the parking lot and up the few steps to the door. Caleb took a deep breath, patted down his clothes and his hair. He had no idea what kind of shape he was actually in. Hopefully, this place would be kind to strangers, kind to someone clearly lost and in trouble.

Caleb stepped across the threshold, and no one batted an eye. He sauntered to the bar and sat down. His heart raced, his hands twitched. He waited patiently for the bartender to take notice of him. He wasn't about to bring attention to himself.

He wasn't prepared for the bartender, wasn't prepared for those broad shoulders, deep, kind eyes and soft hair.

"You all right?" the bartender asked. Caleb definitely wasn't prepared for that voice. That accent.

"Yes. Uhm, actually. No." Caleb's voice was small, almost meek. He really wasn't okay.

The bartender observed him with kind eyes before he reached above and grabbed two shot glasses. He placed them in front of Caleb, on the bar between them and poured amber liquid in each glass.

"This may help."

Caleb nodded and smiled, and took the glass. The bartender smiled kindly in return and clinked their glasses together. Their eyes locked as they took the shot, neither dared to look away.

"Clyde! Earth to Clyde! Another beer!"

"Gotcha Jimmy!"

Clyde smiled softly, almost apologetically before he turned to grab the patron, Jimmy, his beer.

That's when Caleb saw it.  
That's when Caleb screamed.

The revving engine roused him from his sleep. When had he fallen asleep? Caleb opened his eyes, his head still on his pillow he had earlier propped against the truck's window.

He tried to desperately gather his bearings, Caleb's frantic eyes took in his current surroundings. Still incredibly panicked, he couldn't get it together. Not until he heard that sweet, soft and caring voice.

"Darling. Caleb. Are you all right?"

Clyde. Caleb exhaled slowly and his eyes met those soulful dark eyes. "I am now, Clyde."

Clyde look sheepishly at his prosthetic forearm, then felt the familiar pang of guilt.

"You were dreaming. No. Having that nightmare again, weren't you?"

Caleb felt awful. When they first met, it hadn't gone well and he couldn't understand why or how Clyde wanted to be with him. Not after his reaction to Clyde's prosthetic.

"Baby," Caleb said softly as he looked into Clyde's eyes and his fingers traced Clyde's strong arm, and moved to slowly caress his prosthetic. "It wasn't a nightmare."

"Ava. Nathan."

"You are not Ava. You are not Nathan. It still pains me how I reacted to seeing your prosthetic."

That night, once Caleb had regained consciousness, once Caleb and Clyde sat in the bar for the hours after, ultimately giving the other their life stories, their _trauma_, they embraced each other. Clyde vowed to always protect Caleb.

Caleb held Clyde's prosthetic hand, intertwined their fingers. Clyde felt a tear welling up, and Caleb only held Clyde's hand tighter. He would never let go. He didn't want to ever let go.

"We'll be all right. We'll be all right." Clyde whispered before he kissed Caleb's lips.


End file.
